With a mischievous snicker, I open the door after giving it a playful knock.
Haven and Kieran appear so absorbed in their conversation that I have to clear my throat three times before they notice me.
Kieran immediately releases Haven's hand, taking a step back and avoiding eye contact, his face turning a deep shade of crimson. Despite herself, Haven can't help but smile at the man's childlike reaction, as if he's been caught red-handed with his hand in the cookie jar.
As her laughter echoes, a certain Alpha can't tear his eyes away from her.
I notice, of course—the way the boy stares at the human woman. His expression is open, tender, like he's already memorized the contours of her face.
The chances of discovering one's true mate are dwindling.
Kieran is lucky to find his, especially right after becoming the Alpha. All that remains is for the young man to confess instead of stealing furtive glances and brushing against her by accident.
Despite the odds, the human woman exudes an undeniable capacity for love.
I have a feeling that her love is currently invested in someone who is no longer necessary in her life.
"If I'm not mistaken, your name is Haven, correct?"
Haven's head snaps in my direction, her body tensing as if she has just realized someone else has entered the small, quiet station.
Her nod is accompanied by a quick flick of her hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear with an endearing, unstudied grace. I notice the way Kieran's gaze tracks every slight movement, silently yearning for the chance to caress her hair with such tenderness.
As I step closer to the bars of the cell, I can't help but smile, my lips curving upward.
"Uh, yeah." Haven's response is soft, her voice a low murmur. I catch the way her eyes flick toward Kieran, as though instinctively looking to him. "So, your name's Lydia, right? I think I forgot to thank you last time—well, since I was a little preoccupied."
Even though I'm human, I understand that the bond between mates transcends the limits of any species.
Unbeknownst to her, Kieran's connection to Haven is as strong as a silent vow, one that she can't yet comprehend. Kieran stiffly nods, as if assuring her that I mean no harm, and I watch her body relax slightly, the tension slowly melting away.
I return her smile, taking in the dim and cramped cell she's been occupying.
I can tell that Kieran, this newly minted Alpha, locked his mate away not just for her safety, but to keep her from prying eyes. And by anyone, I mean Naomi's supposed mate—a new wolf in town, one Kieran seems determined to keep at bay.
Kieran may be young, but he's far from clueless, despite the confusion and turmoil brewing beneath his calm exterior. The other werewolves remain blissfully unaware of their Alpha's secrecy, perhaps because he's guarding it so well.
Haven's tiny cell is filled with a scent so potent I have to crinkle my nose, surrounded by blankets and pillows as though she's been wrapped in a protective cocoon. To her, it must be the scent of everything she knows and trusts. But for most werewolves, the air would be nearly empty, neutral.
A scent blocker.
Kieran has masked her scent carefully, hiding it from any other male wolves who might be tempted by the allure of a mate. A medieval tactic, almost, but one that works. I can't help but give him credit for his boldness.
It's beyond just marking her—it's an act of possession, of fierce protection.
"Haven, mind if I ask you something?"
Haven's head snaps up, curiosity sparking in her gaze, even as a slight edge of caution tempers her expression. Kieran's eyes darken, his focus sharpening as he stands a few feet away, every inch of him rigid and alert.
The shift is palpable, like a current surging through the small room. The air, once light and sterile, now hums with a note of distrust, a tension that settles in like a storm building on the horizon. It's clear Kieran doesn't want Haven's illusions disturbed; still, I can't resist.
After all these years, I still see him as that young boy, his laugh echoing through the cobblestone streets of Westfall, his eyes bright and unguarded.
"Yes, absolutely," Haven says with a soft nod, her gaze wide and innocent. "What is it, Lydia? Just a warning, though—my brain's practically mush at this point."
She sneaks another glance at Kieran, her face unconsciously lighting up at his presence. He shifts slightly, closing the gap between them, the iron bars a thin, irrelevant barrier. She leans into the bar next to him, her smile blooming, dimples deepening.
"Tell me, Haven," I ask, my voice low and steady. "Do you think fairy tales are real, girl?"
Kieran's expression falters, his smile vanishing, leaving only a tight, unreadable mask. Haven, though, seems lost in thought, her brows knitting together, confusion blooming like a slow, unfolding flower.
For a moment, she hesitates, tilting her head, her fingers idly rubbing her elbow as she tries to process the unexpected question. Her laughter dies off when she finally realizes I'm neither joking nor smiling, just watching her with quiet intensity.
"Uh, I guess so," she says slowly, her brows pinching together. "I loved fairy tales as a kid, of course. I mean, who didn't?"
"That's not what I asked." My voice is softer now, and I ignore Kieran's growing glare, feeling his silent warning like heat against my cheek. "Do you believe they're real, Haven? Not just as stories you heard before bed, but as things living and breathing, right here, right now?"
A nervous laugh escapes her, and she bites her bottom lip, gaze flickering to Kieran as if he might help her make sense of the question.
"I think I'm a little confused," she says, offering me a hesitant smile. "Are you really asking if I believe in… fairies and trolls under bridges? Like, actually asking me that?"
"Lydia," Kieran cuts in, his voice a low, cautious rumble. "If you don't have anything else to say, maybe you should go."
I wave a finger in the air, silencing him with a sharp gesture, meeting his narrowed eyes without hesitation.
"Yes, that's what I asked, Haven," I reply, watching her steadily. She gulps, and I see her eyes dart to Kieran once again, silently seeking his guidance. Irritated, I snap my fingers in front of her, breaking her focus.
"It's a simple question, girl. No need to look at Kieran for the answer," I say with a slow smile. "So? Do you believe or don't you?"
Haven's laughter returns, a quick, light chuckle, though neither Kieran nor I smile.
"No," she says, her voice gaining confidence, though the room falls into an uneasy silence. "Fairy tales aren't real. You two are seriously freaking me out."
"Sweetheart," I say, ticking a finger in the air. "You came to a tiny town with customs stranger than most. Think about it."
Beside me, Kieran's jaw tightens, his fists clenching as anger flares in his eyes. My lips twitch with satisfaction, knowing just how close he is to stepping in—yet held back, barely, by her presence.
"You never stopped to wonder, did you?" I ask, letting my voice drift, soft and steady, through the dim room. "This town goes wild with every full moon, and we celebrate it like we're possessed. We close our doors to outsiders, keep the tourists away, shut ourselves in for days. Doesn't that stir a bit of curiosity in you, Haven?"
She bites her lip, glancing nervously around, as though the walls might shift to confirm her worst fears. Slowly, she backs away from the bars, her gaze flicking from me to Kieran, wide and fearful.
"Lydia," she whispers, her voice shaking, "You're freaking me out."
"Guess what, Haven?" I say, my smile growing, voice a whisper that fills the space. "Fairy tales—they're real."
"Lydia, stop it!" Kieran's voice cuts sharp and cold, but I only grin, catching the anger simmering beneath his restraint.
"The sooner you accept it, the sooner you'll understand why you're here, caged up, kept away from everyone." I let the words hang, watching her closely. "You're not leaving anytime soon, that much is clear. Ever thought about why he broke your phone? Why he's keeping you locked up?"
"What... what the hell are you talking about?" Her voice is barely a breath, and her face goes pale as the color drains from her cheeks. She presses herself back, colliding with the rough wall, her whole body starting to shake.
Kieran growls, his jaw tight and his eyes locked on her, trying to reach her with a calm she can't feel. I watch as her chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, her eyes darting around, searching for a way out. Trembling, she presses her hand to her mouth, and I see the tears pooling in her eyes.
"Kieran." Her voice is brittle, a thread woven from panic and disbelief. She doesn't look away from me, but her words are meant for him. "What is she talking about?"
Kieran steps closer, pressing himself against the bars, reaching out a hand she won't take. He holds it there, hurt settling in his eyes as she shrinks back, looking at him as if he's a stranger. It lands like a blow, the sharp pain clear in the way his expression falters, his brow creasing in confusion and hurt.
I keep my gaze on him, watching his resolve flicker, and let a smirk slip. This is all for their own good—eventually, they'll understand.
"Don't listen to her," he says softly, his voice coaxing, a gentle hand extended. "She's just… a nutty old lady. Always rambling about things that don't matter."
"That's a lie, and you know it," I counter, eyes flashing as I face him. "You think you've done a good job hiding the truth, but why'd you break her phone, Kieran? Cancel all those tours? Keep her in here when she hasn't done a single thing wrong?" I don't miss the darkness flickering in his eyes as he fights to hold his anger back.
"Shut up, Lydia!" His voice booms, and I feel the shift as the room fills with Haven's soft, panicked breaths.
"If you don't want her to know, then let her go." My voice is quiet, measured, but his silence is a boulder, heavy and weighted with secrets.
Haven's breath hitches, and she crumples, her hands shaking as she tries to keep her voice steady. The fear rolls off her, thick and unmistakable, rising in waves we can both sense. She lets out a choked sob, covering her mouth, and her words tumble out, jumbled and desperate, like she's piecing together a nightmare she can't shake.
Again, she pleads for him—Evan, as she knows him, the man she loves, still lingering in her heart.
But I know him better by the name he's claimed here: Vaughn.
"Please."
Haven's voice trembles like a leaf in a storm, words slipping out on stuttering breaths.
"Can I just go now? I swear, you'll never hear from me again. I just want to take Evan and leave. He doesn't belong here, you both know it." Her voice cracks, eyes pleading. "I'm in love with him—terribly, completely. If I could just speak to him, he'd remember. I know he would."
But her words are gasoline, and Kieran ignites in an instant.
A dark laugh catches in my throat; I press my lips tight to smother it, relishing his unraveling.
"Quit talking about that bastard!" Kieran's roar slices the air, so sudden and sharp that Haven jolts back, wide-eyed and pale, her body shrinking against the wall as if trying to disappear.
Kieran's eyes darken, sinking into that bottomless black that wolves slip into when rage overtakes them. Haven notices, and her gaze locks onto his, a mixture of terror and disbelief.
"Stop saying his name like that! He's not yours," Kieran snarls, each word rippling with raw, unrestrained fury. "You're not his! Do you hear me? You're not!"
Fear glistens in Haven's eyes as she shakes her head, a fractured, defensive edge in her voice. "I belong to myself. No one owns me, Kieran."
"You're wrong!" He snaps, a growl rumbling up from deep in his chest. His hands grip the bars with such force I half-expect the metal to bend under his grip. A silent pressure hangs in the air, crackling, as if the very walls are holding their breath.
The whole cell shudders under his fury. Paint flakes tremble from the ceiling, and Haven's hands clamp over her ears, her small frame retreating further into the corner, eyes squeezed shut against the unrelenting noise.
"Boy!" My tone is firm, hand landing with a sharp pat on his shoulder. It's enough to break his fury, if just for a moment, though I know I'm toeing the line. He whips around, claws extended, fingers curling into my collar with a grip that could crush.
Rolling my eyes, I brush his hand aside, waving toward Haven's cowering form. "Look what you've done. She's terrified."
His shoulders slump as he steps back, his gaze darting between Haven and the floor. The anger drains from his face, leaving behind only an ache as his eyes return to their usual shade. He barely breathes as he stares into the cell, watching Haven huddle like a frightened animal, her hands still pressed tightly to her ears.
"Shit," he mutters, voice rough with frustration and regret. "I didn't mean to… Haven, I'm sorry. I lost it. Just look at me, please. I can explain, I swear."
"Stay away from me!"
Her words strike him like a slap, and his face crumples. His jaw clenches, and I catch the bloodshot sheen in his eyes as he struggles to swallow his emotions. A low, broken sound escapes his throat, a mournful growl from his wolf that echoes through the silence.
With a choked cough, he straightens, nodding to himself as he steps back from the bars, each movement a painful withdrawal.
The room fills with the scent of his grief, a scent I know he's trying to hide. As he slips through the doorway, his presence lingers, mixed with the faintest trace of unshed tears.
I sigh, releasing the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, feeling a strange heaviness settle in the room. It's almost too much, watching the young Alpha stripped bare by such simple, brutal rejection.
Honestly, I'd expected a little drama—but nothing quite like this.
He lingers outside, his scent barely fading, like a whisper in the air that refuses to fully leave. I crouch beside the bars, feeling the cool, unyielding metal press into my palm, savoring its weight and chill. Across from me, Haven's eyes lock onto mine, wary and defiant, her fear held tightly behind her gaze.
"Don't come any closer," she warns, her voice steadier than I'd expected. "I mean it."
I lift an eyebrow, half-amused, half-impressed.
"Oh, I doubt that I will," I say, voice calm, a hint of astonishment slipping through. "I'm only here to give you the truth."
A grin teases the corners of my lips, and without looking away from her, I close my hand around the bar.
It bends easily beneath my grip, the metal warping as though it were soft clay, a rush of power tingling through my fingertips.
Haven freezes, her lips parting as if the air itself has stolen her voice.
Her chest heaves with a trapped breath, and then, in a rush, her scream pierces the silence, raw and desperate, filling the small cell with a shattering sound that reverberates through the walls.